FE: SOV - OneShot
by TheLuckyTNTSkeleton
Summary: Alm and Celica fight on the border that separates the two respective countries of Valentia. rated T because I don't know what to rate this, but I hope it's accurate enough.


**So I read seasaltmemories fic Pretty Lies and Their Brutal Truths. Needless to say I enjoyed it and whipped this up as consequence. Not very well done, but I figure I'll post it before I regret my life choices and leave this to rot on my computer for eternity. Contains an interpretation of Rigelian!Alm, and If you didn't read the description, this is slightly spoilery, so don't read this until you have finished the game.**

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The sound of steel clashing against steel, served as a thunderous, rousing applause to the arrival of the princess Anthiese.

The two fated children had met forces sooner than the conqueror would have liked. He had thought- hoped, that her Zofian heritage would soften her heart. Perhaps even turn her away from participating in this particular slaughter, forcing an early surrender from her lips.

But the prince knew such a fantasy would not come to pass. Anthiese, in spite of being a woman of noble birth, proved a ferocious opponent each time they crossed on the battle field. What ability she lacked in sword play she made up for in magical prowess. Proving her mettle each time it came to blows.

She was a deadly priestess, oft neglecting compromise in place of blood.

She would cut down his men one after the other, always carrying a firm glare filled with great intentions that the prince couldn't help but return in fervor every time. She scattered their ranks as he did with hers. Great swells of fire were beckoned forth by her hand, as she slit throats and stabbed abdomens whenever a Rigelian soldier so much as stepped within her path. Each display was mesmerizing. Even more so, was the look in her eyes. The determination, the fear of losing. Alm knew it was wrong, but seeing the beautiful maiden of war whipped into a frenzy as she was, teased some less than savory thoughts from the recesses of his mind.

This was a woman who's war cry was the sound of Rigelian screams.

So by the time the princess had reached him, Alm felt a little betrayed.

Unlike their previous bouts of strength, she had been defeated swiftly. Exhausted herself before the dance between them had even began. Though she put up quite the fight considering her condition, at the end of the day she was making a mockery out of Alm's well honed skill with the sword. With each time he managed to strike her lithe form, the prince only pitied her more, and finally drove his weapon into the belly of her flesh. Wanting for nothing more than to end it there.

Celica paled while her porcelain skin became clammy, and the Rigelian prince watched her choke as she fell into him. His hopes of preserving the image of the red haired priestess bringing forth a bloody maelstrom as she tried her damnedest to end his life had all but been abolished. Cradled in his right arm was no longer a maiden of war, succinct in manner yet keen edged as Falchion itself- But a princess of Zofia, frail, meek and powerless against him in the fight to unite Valentia as one whole.

For all the trouble she had given him during his campaign, it was no wonder he had expected the fight to last longer than twenty or so minutes. Every other encounter at the border had often left the two groups at a stalemate, with the general longing to reuinite with the one who shared his brand on her palm. The anticipation of a glorious final battle was what kept him awake at night, and had him up before dawn ready to fight in the name of his people and the war father.

He hadn't wanted it to come to this. But war was war. And war was an art that had to end eventually, regardless of whether it turned out a victor. Not only had Anthiese taken the lives of his soldiers as a consolation trophy, she had taken his heart as well.

This was why it made it all the more difficult for him to proceed with her capture. Once he handed the Zofian princess over to Rigel, he couldn't have her all to himself anymore. She wouldn't fight him head on, nor would she ever look at him with those purposeful crimson eyes. Truth be told he wasn't made privy to what might happen to his beloved priestess of the march. So if she was going to die anyway, he would make sure that it was by his hand alone.

Of course Alm was disobeying his fathers wishes by doing this, but his excellency had also made it clear that capturing the princess was only to be done if the opportunity presented itself. As Mila's chosen, it was the job of the emperor to make sure to the best of his ability, that Anthiese might live. For what purpose Alm didn't know. Perhaps he was being a mite foolish, sacrificing this woman, who was ultimately destined to join forces with him and save Valentia. Nevertheless, Valentia still had him. There was no need for two people to bring peace when certainly only one of them would ever be able to wield Falchion.

Anthiese clawed weakly at Alm's chest, trying to pierce his armor. To summon the fires of war to her side once again, but her efforts were for naught. She could do nothing but stare listlessly ahead of her as her eyes became half lidded, eventually glazing over.

"Stay with me." Alm whispered into her ear above the din of battle. Having noticed the woman in his arms becoming more feeble.

"Just a little longer. Don't die yet." Alm grasped her rosy locks in his fingers, and they were pleasantly soft. Each strand may as well have been made of the finest silk, prompting the prince to stroke her head, as if soothing her into the next life. To this, Celica would let out a gurgled noise in protest, fruitlessly trying to escape him, even when hopelessly ran through with the enemy sword. The general would only shush her jerked movements and sharp kicks, gently murmuring nonsense into her ear until finally her strength had truly abandoned her, and she stopped.

All that was left for her were the brief moments spent in the arms of the Rigelian prince.

"Don't die yet." He would selfishly whisper to her once again, asking her to endure her suffering just so he could enjoy the feeling of her breath against his skin, the rise and fall of her form as she struggled to breathe. It was clear however, that Anthiese was fading. She had stopped making pained noises, and she had stopped fighting him. After a minute pause, Alm released his hold on the princess as well as his sword, having to avert his attention to those who had slipped past his men and made it to him.

He would kill them without trouble, their blood only dyeing the royal sword further red.


End file.
